In a recent blog post on his personal website, author George R.R. Martin said the following statement:
“Well, I take solace where I can,” Martin said. “In books. In films and television shows… though even there, toxicity is growing. It used to be fun talking about our favorite books and films, and having spirited debates with fans who saw things different… but somehow in this age of social media, it is no longer enough to say ‘I did not like book X or film Y, and here’s why.’ Now social media is ruled by anti-fans who would rather talk about the stuff they hate than the stuff they love, and delight in dancing on the graves of anyone whose film has flopped.”
While that may be the case with a select few, it is most certainly not the case where all those who complain about what has been done to a beloved franchise or character are "anti-fans". They are still saying "I did not like book X or film Y, and here's why". It's just that people like George apparently only want to see that coming from people who ultimately end up agreeing with him, or else they're "toxic" and "anti-fans".
It's a disingenuous argument. If someone takes a literal dog turd and then paints a big red "S" on it and calls it Superman, people are going to call it for what it is. A turd. That doesn't make them toxic. That doesn't make them anti-fans. People have always been passionate about established and beloved properties, so when they see someone doing something that they perceive as ruining the established property, they're going to be pissed, and they're probably going to tell you why (that's the 'here's why' part). But somewhere along the lines, people started taking the criticism personally. They started thinking "well, I liked book X or film Y, and if you think otherwise, I feel attacked!" so they label those with whom they disagree as "toxic fandom".
And when it comes to the whole "delight in dancing on the graves of anyone whose film has flopped." part, well... there's some justification for that, too. When the filmmakers/producers of some new vision for an established property release their vision out into the world and immediately start saying that if you don't love it, it means you're an -ist or a -phobe or "toxic", or they otherwise insult the core audience for that property, those people who the production company just spent the last few months crapping on and saying "we don't need your kind watching our movie/TV show, anyway! We're awesome! You're wrong!" are going to take a certain amount of joy in the fact that the studio/actors/filmmakers/producers who were so confident that they made a modern masterpiece discover through abject failure that they made a flaming turd of a production and it cost them a buttload of money. That's not "toxic fandom". That's narcissism, arrogance and delusion getting smacked in the face with a great big ball of reality, and who's not going to laugh when they see someone they don't like getting hit in the face with a giant ball?
That's not toxicity. That's an opportunity for the studios/filmmakers to learn a lesson, which is generally this:
"Don't take beloved properties, throw out everything that made them beloved in the first place, throw in whatever messaging of the day you want to shoehorn in, claim that you've somehow improved upon the original and then expect the people who know everything about that beloved property to just take you at your word when they know better."
That and:
"It's not a particularly smart move to alienate and openly insult your core audience if you actually want to make any money."
But neither of those lessons are getting learned. They're too busy telling the fans, who are the people responsible for a property becoming successful in the first place, that they're the villains for not blindly accepting the bastardized version of their favorite characters and stories.
Look at it like this. Say that you love apple pie. It's your favorite pie in the world. You know the recipe by heart. Then someone comes in and says "We're going to make our version of apple pie.", and their version replaces the sugar with salt, the cinnamon with smoked chili powder and the sliced apples with an equivalent amount of sliced ginger root marinated in Vegemite, topping it all with a cardboard crust, yet they still call it apple pie. You'd look at that mess in a pie plate and say, "I don't know what that raging dumpster fire is, but it's certainly not apple pie, and you should be ashamed of yourself for even sullying the name of apple pie with that horrible monstrosity."
If their response to that is:
"You don't know a good apple pie when you see one! You're just stupid! You don't really like apple pie! You're just a hater! You're toxic! You'll be sorry when our new and improved apple pie sells in record amounts! We don't need your money, anyway!"
it shouldn't come as a surprise if you take a certain degree of joy in their failure for ruining the good name of apple pie. It's an "I told you so." moment. That doesn't make you a "toxic" apple pie fan. It doesn't make you an apple pie anti-fan. It makes you a fan of actual apple pies who hated what they tried to do to it and felt satisfaction when their hubris led to an abject failure. That makes them "toxic apple pie makers".
Great... All this talk about apple pie makes me want some, now.
Until next time...
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